Fatherhood of God – Charles Spurgeon

A GREAT iron wall of material forces is set up by certain philosophers between us and the great all-working Jehovah. We hear little about him, but very much of the laws of nature: we take the thermometer and say, “Oh, the temperature fell so many degrees, and it was natural that the mist should become snow, or that instead of dew there should be hoarfrost.” We talk now-a-days as if we were living in a world of machinery—as if the Lord had gone away and left the wheels of nature to go on working until the weights run down, or the great pendulum of time shall stop; but I hope every Christian heart revolts from such a view of the world as this. I had sooner be a child again, and be near to God, than be a philosopher, and with my philosophy only put God farther off. It seems to me, I say again, to make the world so magnificent, to light it up with such a luster and such a splendor, to think that God is in it, and that it is his ice, and his snow, and his wind, and his cold, and that everything is his, since he is the Head of the House and Father of the Family. With such views I feel, as far I can be in this world, at home like a child in his own father’s house; and the prayer, “Our Father, which are in Heaven,” seems to be a fitting and proper prayer for a denizen of a world where God is present still.